


peek-a-boo, I see you

by Medie



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-27
Updated: 2010-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not exactly like reading a status report.</p>
            </blockquote>





	peek-a-boo, I see you

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this for the Heroes [Kink Meme](http://perdiccas.livejournal.com/5334.html?thread=391638#t391638) for a voyeur prompt. Prompt was _Matt/Mohinder: voyeurism. Writer's choice who watches. Elle, Bob, Sylar, Bennett, Peter...just some possible ideas._ In a fit of silliness, I managed to get Elle, Bob, and Bennett in there.

_Of course_, thinks Elle when she sees them. She almost kicks herself for not seeing it before (no straight guy passes up a shot at _her_) and immediately regrets it. Parkman's a telepath. She gives the back of his head the stink-eye, taking a step backward into the shadows. Telepaths are no fun. Even when they can't get past the noise in her head (gotta love electricity, it plays hell with telepathy) they can still hear it.

Which sucks. She doesn't want to miss _this_. Mohinder arches, legs akimbo as he slumps against the wall. Matt presses in, arm moving faster, his face hidden against Mohinder's throat.

Elle licks her lip, nipping at it. She bites hard enough to sting and curls fingers into her shirt. She watches Mohinder throw his head back, inviting the exploration of Matt's mouth. It's kinda hot, watching Matt take him up on it.

Leaning back against the wall, Elle slides a hand over her hip, skimming close to her hemline. She curls her fingers around the blue plaid and breathes out.

Daddy's so not going to like this. She grins, but wouldn't it be fun to tell him?

*

It wasn't as if they weren't aware of Dr. Suresh's proclivities. Though brilliant, the man was surprisingly naive in his behavior. It hadn't been hard to discover the pattern in his personal life. There isn't much about the relationship between Suresh and Matt Parkman that, on paper, the Company doesn't know.

Still...

This is not exactly like reading a status report. As many as Bob has read, some of which include 8x10 glossies, this is not exactly that.

He stands on the stairs, looking down into the stairwell. This isn't the first time he's stumbled across employees in flagrante delicto, it's not likely to be the last, but it's still unexpected. One doesn't expect to find one of the world's leading authorities on genetic abnormalities - a title, he's proud to say, the Company assisted Dr. Suresh in achieving - on his knees with his lover's penis in his mouth.

"_Fuck_," says Parkman, grabbing fistfuls of Mohinder's curls. His head thumps back against the wall as he gasps, sucking in ragged breaths.

Bob pulls back, out of sight. He doubts Parkman has the presence of mind to notice him, but there are some risks not even he is willing to take. As harmless as Matt Parkman appears, the Company knows better. Bob isn't in any hurry to cross Maury's son. Even over something so trivial as this.

After a moment, he leans out. Matt's eyes are closed, his hands guiding Mohinder's movements on him. Suresh's arm moves in tandem, the rhythm of his motion faltering. Quite difficult, Bob knows, to keep control of one's body when instinct was wrenching that control away.

Parkman groans, loud in the enclosed space. He arches, body bucking forward into Mohinder. The good doctor rocks back on his heels, but doesn't lose his balance. Bob finds himself fascinated by the whole thing. He watches, waiting to see what Mohinder will do next. It's never been something to wish he's given much thought.

Mohinder rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Parkman grins at him, lazy and sated, then pulls him in for a kiss.

"Well," says Bob in an undertone, "that was unexpected."

*

They're trying to be quiet. It's absolutely ridiculous. Noah rolls over and glares at the wall. It's old wallboard, broken and faded, but in the dark it makes a suitable stand-in. Their timing is spectacularly atrocious, the soft whispers, caught breaths, and muffled moans aggravating, but not for the reason one would think.

He listens to Mohinder, a soft laugh muffled against Matt's shoulder.

"Shh," says Matt. His stage-whisper can barely be called that. The man should know that he's awake. He's a telepath, for God's sake. He should _know_.

Noah smirks. Of course, he is distracted. It would be funny if it weren't three am. He rolls onto his back, then his side, and faces them. The faint light from the streetlight reveals Mohinder, black hair darker than night against the crisp white pillow.

Letting his eyes slide half-shut, Noah can see Matt. His face against Mohinder's stomach, likely kissing if the man's reactions are any judge. He waits, knowing where its headed.

Ah, young love.

He'd find it cloying if the late hour didn't make it so irritating. He yawns, waiting for just the right moment.

When Mohinder makes a strangled noise, just a touch too loud, he knows. "Oh hurry up and let the rest of us sleep."

It's worth it, just to hear Parkman's yelp.


End file.
